


Distance

by MistyInTheMoonlight (whitepolarbears)



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Series 3, but also like no, maybe attempted hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitepolarbears/pseuds/MistyInTheMoonlight
Summary: What Hardy was thinking of when Miller was crying on the steps of the station in Series 3 after getting the confession. And maybe post s3 imaginings. Maybe.





	1. On the Steps

**Author's Note:**

> SO I noticed that when series 3 was showing and this scene took place, everyone seemed to be upset that Hardy didn't hug Miller on the steps because it was the perfect time to do so. As much as I would have liked for them to hug in series 3 (or eat together or SOMETHING after all that not-hugging-you stuff in series 2), rewatching the scenes made me realise that their dynamic wasn't suitable _at that time_ for a hug. Or at least there weren't scenes where it would have been appropriate. So I figured I'd take a stab at seeing what was going on in Hardy's mind that prevented him from offering some better form of consolation. Enjoy!

He saw her from the window—a lonely figure on the steps of the station. He hesitated only for a split second before deciding to join her. 

He walked a little louder to alert her to his approach. From behind, he could see her wiping away her tears when she heard him coming. He walked down a step and leaned against the handrail. She didn't look at him.

'Ed Burnett's gone.'

She nodded.

'And Jim Atwood.'

She nodded again, still staring intently at the ground. Hardy looked at her, his brow furrowed, not knowing how to help. He wanted to help; he hated seeing her this miserable again and not being able to offer any comfort. His gaze softened. _Just say something_.

'You okay?'

She shook her head. 'No,' she managed to say as she visibly fought back the tears that threatened to escape. He immediately pushed himself off the handrail and went to sit beside her.

'We have him though, that footage will send him down,' he said, and clasped his hands together, not knowing what else to do. She glanced at him for a fraction of a second and looked back at the ground. She exhaled.

He desperately wanted to be able to comfort her. He felt so useless—it was like the trial all over again. The trial...that case. And after all that, despite being put-together at work and being incredibly sharp towards some people, she still had the biggest heart. He would still chastise her for giving out her phone number when she did it again, because obviously she would, but a part of him admired her for it—that incredible capacity to care so much. He looked at her briefly and thought, _someone who cared would hug her right now_.  
  


_'Do you want a...hug?'_  
_'What? No!'_  
_'Right, no.'_  
_'What's the matter with you?!'_  
_'I'm just trying to help—'_  
_'D'you want a hug? Let's hug it out?!'_  
_'People do that...'_  
_'Yeah well, not you!'_  
  


He'd be a shit detective if he made the same mistake twice. They didn't do hugs—or at least she didn't. The only things they could offer each other were curt words of comfort and veiled looks of care...a cup of tea in the quiet of the morning, a slice of toast. _A handshake_. 

Perhaps the problem was in the question. Perhaps he shouldn't ask—people wouldn't normally ask, would they? Hardy momentarily thought of discreetly shifting a few inches towards her to place his arm around her shoulder. Or just a hand. What if she flinched away, though? Lashed out like the last time? That would be awkward. God, that would be so horribly awkward. He cringed and immediately discarded the idea. She didn't let him hug her in the toilets and she didn't let him touch her shoulder in front of his house; there would be no reason for it to be different now. He knew better.

'He is not what men are,' he eventually tried. He added futilely, 'He's an aberration.' The instant he heard his words, he realised how pathetic they sounded. Maybe he shouldn't even have said anything at all. What did he expect? He was shit at Supportive-Boss, why did he think he could be useful now? He cursed inwardly. Damn this relationship, damn this stunted verbal communication. Damn their distance. Why did it have to be like this? Why did it have to be so bloody hard? It's just like them—to be so close and yet, so far.

'I hope so,' she said.

He didn't touch her. 

He clasped his hands tighter.


	2. In the Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post series 3.

'You should come. With Daisy. It'll be nice.'

Miller was standing at the door of his office, adjusting her sling bag. It was dark through the windows, and most of the lights had been turned off in the station. Hardy realised it was just the two of them left in the station again—or it will just be him after she leaves.

'What time is it?'

'Time to go home. You shouldn't stay so late either.'

'Right.' Hardy let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He looked tiredly at all the paperwork in front of him. 

'Oh, just leave it,' said Miller, sounding equally tired. 'You can finish it tomorrow.'

Hardy considered finishing it all up that night, but eventually thought the better of it. 

'Yeah...s'pose so.'

He took off his glasses and put them away as he stood up. Miller waited patiently as he rolled down his sleeves and passed him his jacket as he walked around the desk.

As they were walking out of the station, Miller picked up from where she had left off, 'I mean it. You should come with Daisy.'

'S'what people do, eh? Have their bosses 'round?' Hardy deadpanned. 

Miller let out a small chuckle of amusement. They reached her car and he walked to the passenger's side.

'Well, you haven't anything else to do,' she continued as she unlocked her car and opened the door. 'You just told me this afternoon that you don't have other plans.' 

They got in and she started the car. They drove in silence for awhile before falling into their usual end-of-day exchanges, just chatting about the ordinary—Daisy, the boys, something funny someone said. She pulled up in front of his house and rolled down her window as he exited the car and began to walk off.

'Hardy?' she called out.

He turned to look at her.

'7 o'clock. Don't be late,' she said firmly and rolled up her window. She drove away as Hardy watched on.

-~-

It was nearing 10 before anyone made a move to leave. She was right, it had been nice—Christmas dinner with Miller and her boys, Beth and her girls. Daisy had enjoyed herself—he turned to look for her and remembered she was out in the garden with Tom and Chloe...something about trying to take long exposure pictures with Chloe's new camera.

They were now stood in the hallway—Miller was talking to Beth and fussing over little Lizzy. Hardy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, inspecting the carpet and the skirting along the wall without much interest. He peered into the living room and saw wee Fred asleep on the sofa; the boy had been too tired to stay up with everyone else. It seemed like it was just the other day that Fred was just a little toddler. But that's the way time goes, isn't it? With a blinding flash and a fleeting blink, you are cruelly robbed of irretrievable years; it was that way for Daisy.

Hardy was slowly pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the tone of conversation shift behind him to a sort of finality. He turned towards Miller and saw her giving Beth a one-armed hug to accommodate Lizzy, who was now dozing with her head on Beth's shoulder. Ellie smiled brightly as she saw Beth out the door who went to find the kids, before turning back to Hardy. She looked happy and cozy in her muted orange blouse with her hair pulled back; Hardy briefly wondered how many orange items of clothing she had.

'Well, that wasn't so bad was it?' said Miller teasingly. 'Socialising? People? Human relationships?'

Hardy grunted and shrugged, avoiding her eyes. He looked at the ground, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn't let her see that. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up. 'Thank you,' he said seriously. 'For inviting us. It was good...good for Daisy. She looked like she enjoyed herself.' His mind flashed to Daisy smiling and laughing throughout the evening, clearly comfortable with all of them and having a lovely time. Such a difference from when she almost got on that train to leave Broadchurch. 

'It was nice,' he said, after a pause.

'It was, wasn't it?' 

Ellie smiled softly. They were both in a mildly tipsy state from the wine they had with dinner, and it had left them with a warm, comfortable feeling. Without warning, she stepped forward, threaded her arms through his and before he knew it, her cheek was pressed against his blue jumper and he was enveloped in a warm hug. He extracted his hands from his pockets and wrapped his arms around her automatically.

He lowered his head and rested his cheek against her hair and relaxed more into the embrace, enjoying the warmth from her and the wine. He closed his eyes, and dared to hold a little tighter, inhale a little deeper. In the haze, he felt something brush his cheek—her lips. As quickly as he had felt it, the feeling left him and she pulled away, giving him a gentle smile. He smiled back, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. 

It was only when he was walking along the pavement with Daisy a few minutes later, that he realised it was the first time Ellie had ever hugged him.


	3. In Between

It was a cool evening; the salty sea breeze faintly permeated the air, rustling leaves and whispering wherever it went. The sky was overcast, with remnants of the setting sun just a glimmer hiding behind the clouds.

'Do you think he staged the robbery himself?' asked Miller, snapping her head towards Hardy.

'I thought you just told me you needed a break from the case.'

'I know, I know.' 

Hardy held the door to the restaurant open and she walked in, heading straight for the table by the window. He sat down across from her and picked up the menu, grimly eyeing his options.

'But do you think he did it?' 

Hardy looked at her pointedly over the top of his menu. 

'Alright, alright,' said Miller, letting out a long sigh. She began to rub her forehead agitatedly. 'It's just that, if I'm not thinking about the case, I'm thinking about Tom and then I'm thinking about my father and just—oh I don't even know what to say to him sometimes.'

She let her hands drop to the table and looked out the window. 

'You know, I can't believe the things he says to Tom. God, you should have heard him the other night—it was actually pleasant for awhile and then he had to go off and say something stupid—'

'Miller,' said Hardy brusquely. 'We could have stayed at the station and ordered food if you wanted to talk about the case.'

He gave her a meaningful look. 'Just...think about what you want to eat or something.'

Ellie took a deep breath. She looked downwards and suddenly realised he had put down his menu and his hand was holding hers. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, wide in surprise. She felt his hand tense and saw him glance between them. He abruptly began to pull away, but her hand instinctively tightened around his and he stopped. His eyes remained fixed on their hands, and so did hers. 

She remembered the last time they held hands.

_Handshake?_  
_Not hugging you._

'Hardy?'

She could hear him breathing, feel him panicking. 

'Hardy,' she said again, quietly. 'Why did you come back?'

'Mil—'

'I know you said all that about Daisy getting a second chance here, but...' 

She paused, and swallowed nervously. 'Why Broadchurch?'

Their hands remained unmoved. Hardy remained still. She felt as if he would never answer, and she wondered if he would ignore her again. She dared to look up and saw his bent head.

'I've told you,' he finally said, carefully. His eyes still did not meet hers.

'No, you haven't...not really.'

His thumb moved ever so slightly, brushing the top of her hand. If she hadn't been so absolutely still and hyperaware of every tiny movement they made, she would have missed it. His voice was low and soft.

'You know why.'

She felt her body still and heart quicken; she answered in a voice quieter than his.

'Not unless you tell me.'

His thumb brushed her hand again, just as delicately as before. His head rose slowly, and his eyes finally met hers unwaveringly. 

'Because of you.'

There. He said it. She already knew, in the way it lurked behind the companionable silences and gentle looks that passed between them, but it was different when it was unspoken—it was more palpable, but less tangible. Sometimes it was unbearable, the feeling of knowing while being completely shrouded in a haze.

'Right.'

He shrugged lightly, his resolute gaze softening as he leaned back. He didn't let go of her hand. 

Ellie didn't know what else to say, or if there _was_ anything to say. She had just wanted to know if he cared about her. Well, _of course he did_ but she had needed to hear it, and he would have never spoken of it if she hadn't asked. 

Sometimes she wished he'd be more....forward, for lack of a better word. In anything outside the job, really. But then again, why would he? That wasn't how this worked. She'd told him that herself just before he left. 

_Don't be nice to me._  
_Right._

She wished she hadn't.

There wasn't anything to say. Ellie found that she couldn't hold his gaze any longer; she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, hoping he'd understand, and pulled away.


	4. Within the Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the last of it! Sorry it took awhile. Huge thanks to my unnamed friend who stuck through the whole thing and beta'd this story for me.
> 
> Enjoy.

They were in the lobby of a small hotel slightly outside of town—Ellie came out from the toilets and saw the rain still incessantly drowning the world through the misted windows. She turned to see Hardy walking towards her from the reception desk. 

'Any updates?' she asked.

'Still raining, roads are still flooded. Even if it stops now, it's not going to drain away before morning.' Hardy let out an exasperated sigh and put his hands on his hips.

'Whose stupid idea was it to hold a conference here, of all places? Was it so hard to check the weather? Or have it in town where they have better drainage systems?' 

'Yeah, well they didn't do that.'

Miller huffed and crossed her arms.

'Anyway,' continued Hardy. 'Since we can't get to the car and the place is full, the owners have offered to let us either spend the night in the lobby or in a spare office they have in the back. They'll put a mattress on the floor or something.'

Miller looked at the chairs around her. They looked very comfortable...for _sitting_. Definitely not for sleeping unless she wanted a sore neck in the morning. She also wasn't particularly keen on dozing in such a public space. 

She sighed. 

Before they knew it, they were staring at a double mattress occupying the limited floor space of a very tiny office. A desk was wedged in the corner at the end of the room, and the chair was by the door to make space for the mattress. 

'At least they didn't put it in the lobby,' said Miller eventually.

They resigned themselves to not spending the night back in their own comfortable beds in Broadchurch, and attempted to navigate the room. 

Hardy shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the chair. He toed off his shoes and frowned at the mattress, as though he were analysing the best way to get onto it.

'Please tell me you aren't going to sleep in a shirt again.' 

Miller gave him a disapproving look. 'And still tucked in as well! You're just going to make yourself more uncomfortable.'

Hardy didn't move for a moment, then defiantly glowered at her and began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes didn't waver as he pulled his shirt off, untucked his undershirt, and proceeded to unbuckle his belt. 

Miller suddenly realised she was staring at him undressing and felt her face flush with embarrassment; she quickly averted her eyes. She crawled onto the mattress, pulling the blanket up with her at the same time, and curled up as close to the edge as possible with her back towards him. The lights switched off and the room was plunged into darkness. She felt the mattress dip as he joined her and settled in place; she heard him fumble with his blanket. _At least they had their own blankets this time_.

Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark—the hazy glow of moonlight shone through the small window near the ceiling and bathed the walls in blue. An awkward silence descended on them despite the pitter-patter of the slowing rain, and she felt the need to say something to fill it; she thought their days of awkward silences were over.

'Have you told Daisy you won't be home tonight?'

'I called her when you were on the phone with your dad.'

Of course he did.

'Right.'

Silence descended once again.

'They serve quite good food, don't they? I thought the chicken would be dry but it was actually—'

'Miller—' Hardy interrupted, then paused.

'Listen,' he continued tiredly. 'We've done this before, and it's only as weird as we make it so let's just....'

He trailed off, not knowing what to say. 'Just go to sleep, Miller.'

She managed to not say anything for about a minute.

'How's your heart?'

An exhale.

'It's fine.'

'Do you feel anything? When the pacemaker is working?'

'No, it just...goes by itself. I don't feel anything.'

'I thought it might feel like a small electrocution or something.'

She heard him give a small chuckle and it brought warmth to the room. 

'It doesn't feel like an electrocution. Not that I'd know, but...'

'Probably should keep it that way.' she said jokingly, and they both shared a small huff of laughter. 

It became quiet again, but it was more comfortable this time. The cold was more affable and there was the calm of companionship—it reminded her of another kind of life.

And at that thought, the familiar sense of loneliness creeped in.

She knew she shouldn't say it. It would change what they had between them and she would regret it. She _knew_ she would. But now, alone in the dark with her back towards him, where courage could be drawn from the apparent safety of sightlessness, she couldn't stop herself from asking.

'Can you hold me?'

Her small whisper suddenly sounded so loud in the silence. She held her breath, hovering over the line between apprehension and regret. 

There was a pause, and neither of them moved. She could hear the emptiness of the air and the stillness of the dark; she couldn't hear him breathing. Then there was a rustle of movement from behind—she felt him edge closer until his body was barely touching her back, and his arm came to rest carefully over her side. 

There seemed to still be a gap between them, like the last remaining sliver of hesitance discernible from his tense cautiousness. _They've come this far_. She ventured to lean boldly into his embrace and finally felt him relax—his warmth at last completely enveloping her. He pressed his nose into her curls and tightened his grip around her. She heard him breathe in deeply. 

They lay there together in the dark, in the silence of the night, breathing and heartbeats in sync. 

'Hardy?' 

A small grunt replied.

'Tell me you love me.'

He didn't make a sound as his fingers delicately traced over the back of her hand and became entangled with hers. His voice carried tenderly through the dark. 

'I love you.'

She hadn't realised how much it meant to hear those words from him. _Until now_. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, a tear escaped from her eye; she hurriedly blinked it away. 

She felt him move behind her; his hand left hers to apply a slight pressure on her shoulder. He hovered over her, his weight supported by his elbow. She turned her head up to face him and her eyes met his in the dim glow of the moonlight.

'Ellie,' he said softly, gazing into her soul. 'I love you.'

She raised her head slightly and he slowly lowered his. Her eyes drifted shut as his lips gently brushed hers. Neither of them dared to breathed. She finally nudged the stillness and kissed him back, and there was no more distance between them. 

Without breaking contact, Ellie rolled onto her back—her hands brushed against his soft T-shirt as she brought them up to run her fingers through his hair. Hardy placed his hand on the mattress beside her head, balancing himself over her as he deepened the kiss. She felt him become bolder—his lips moved with more intent, and she felt his fingertips delicately stroke her cheek before meandering downwards along her side, coming to rest at her waist as he just _held_ her. She had to break away for air, but their parting was short-lived—his forehead came to rest against hers as he attempted to still his heartbeat. She felt his breathing slowly steady against her lips, and her whisper was fragile in the night.

'I love you.'


End file.
